Frizzy hair and halos share the same space; might as well act like it occasionally. Lent helps me act like it.
Of course, it's more than an act. My heart is in it. That's why this year I wanted to give up something hard. To actually sacrifice something. All my stereotypical-Christian-girl sacrifices have been too easy. It's easy to give up Facebook when most of the time it just clutters your mind anyway. It's easy to give up alcohol when the booziest time of your life involved about 1.5 drinks a week. It's easy to give up men when you are living in an all-girls school. And getting up one-hour earlier isn't all that hard. It's even easy to give up sugar when you've taken a science class and realized what metabolic and inflammatory havoc one teaspoon wreaks on your body.
So this year I decided to sacrifice a sin.
Now, well after the fact (Lent having obviously ended a couple weeks ago), I have decided to share what the experience was like. I didn't write about it at the time because there was a high potential for failure, and who wants to fail in front of people?
In a way, I did fail, but I'm writing anyway.
I decided to give up what I perceive to be the most pervasive, corrosive sin in my life: fear.
Unlike catching yourself from tapping open your Facebook App, that's not something you can just stop doing.
At least, it's not something I can just stop doing. When one wrong, split-second thought can cause neurotransmitters to avalanche chemicals into your bloodstream without warning—chemicals that will stay there until they get used up or filtered out—it's very difficult to stop fear.
Especially when so many things trigger that fight-or-flight response. The avalanches of anxiety show no partiality to the size or shape of an event. I can get just as terrified mailing a letter in person at the post office as I do when confronted by an important meeting with hospital executives. My heart rate skyrockets and I break into a sweat before taking an exam, but the same thing often happens when I wake up and realize it's Sunday and that I have to attend church, AKA the most socially awkward event ever. I've agonized for days about a new job that I'm starting; I have also agonized for days when I "just" have to call the dentist to reschedule my appointment (it's not that I'm scared of getting my teeth cleaned—it's the phone call, the rescheduling process, itself). The degree of terror (high) that I experience when publishing a blog post is comparable to what I feel before donating blood.
And then there's the fear of the future in general, of relationships or lack of them, of career or lack it. The fear of making the wrong decision; the fear that the decision I made years ago was the wrong one. The fear of the things that are wrong with my body or of unknown things that might be wrong with my body. The fear that I am, by definition of being Mattea, wrong.
And every single fear is a sin. It doesn't matter that I am biologically predisposed to fear. It doesn't matter that it's in my DNA, that anxiety runs in my family. I have just as much responsibility as a "normal person" to be fearless.
So for 40 days I tried, and for 40 days I was a much freer person. I did not become fearless, but I did fight my fear. I taught myself to start fighting it the moment it started, rather than wait 5 minutes or 5 days.
And those 40 days were the most spiritually vibrant days of my life thus far.
Actually, let me qualify that. I have had greater spiritual vibrancy, but it has always been precipitated by a highly emotional/spiritual experience. This was precipitated by nothing but an act of the will. I had to form a new habit—a habit of fighting—and work away at it slowly, reap the benefits s-l-o-w-l-y. Eventually, I taught myself to stay on the offensive so that I could conquer fear before it became an issue.
The greatest benefit was that I started really enjoying life again, even though the majority of my life was completing graduate research, freezing to death, doing dishes, freezing to death, having relationships fall apart, freezing to death, being an insomniac, and freezing to death. When I am not worrying I can actually relax and enjoy tiny things from one moment to another: a splatter of sunshine on the hardwood floor, my sister playing piano, a shower, grace. Also, I went to like 5 different social events that I wouldn't have otherwise.
How did I fight the fear, exactly? By practicing the disciplines I'm supposed to be practicing: meditating on Scripture and praying constantly. Also: singing, listening to music, or working out to mute the adrenaline rush. Sometimes this meant pushups on my bedroom floor at 2AM.
The struggle is real, the fight is real.
The victories are also real.
Do something for 40 days, and even when the 40 days are over, you'll have formed a habit.
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